


praying to the lord

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 14:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7979953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(praying for my soul) <br/>Jane, Michael and the possibility of tragedy. 'For a terrifying moment Jane thinks this is how it is going to end, her husband bleeding out one of the many hallways of the Marbella.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	praying to the lord

Two, three, four minutes pass, and Michael still hasn’t returned with the promised ice. Clad in her nightgown, her hair unpinned, Jane doesn’t start to truly worry about her husband’s whereabouts until she’s cleaned up the shattered pieces of the snow-globe, silently mourning the loss of such a thoughtful gift. But the figures are still intact, thankfully, and she’ll be sure to have another globe made, with this ornament the first of many trinkets she and Michael will decorate their home with. She empties the shattered glass into the bin, readjusts the straps of her nightgown, and when she notices that it’s been almost six minutes since Michael left to get ice, Jane starts to fret. The ice is only just down the hall, and even if he ran into Raf, into Petra, into anyone at all, surely Michael would have only engaged in polite conversation for a few moments before excusing himself. It is their wedding night after all, and she knows Michael has been anticipating this night perhaps even more than she has. Slipping her dressing gown over her shoulders and tying it loosely around her waist, Jane grabs her phone and leaves the hotel room, looking left, and then right down the hall.

When she looks right, she sees him. And when she does, for a moment she finds she cannot breathe.

Inhaling sharply, she unlocks her phone and dials a number she’d never thought she would ever have to call. “Michael, Michael!” she calls, rushing towards him. Her heart pounds in her throat, and she can barely hear the operator’s voice on the other end of the line. She crouches down beside her husband, frantically fumbling for a pulse, for anything, Michael’s hand firmly pressed against his chest. Against his heart, blood more than evident on his shirt. His heart, the very place where a large part of her own is kept. “Michael,” she sobs, the operator’s instructions faint in her ear. “Michael, please.”

His eyes peer up at her, his face pale. The operator assures her that help will be there shortly, and she weeps into the crook of Michael’s neck, her hand coming to rest on top of his, pressing hard against his wound. She doesn’t know what to do, her mind unable to comprehend the situation occurring. Tearfully she yells for help, but no one comes. No doors open, and for a terrifying moment Jane thinks this is how it is going to end, her husband bleeding out on the hallway of the Marbella, and Jane entirely powerless to prevent his death. They’ve only been married for seven and a half hours, and already, this might be the end.

“Stay with me, _please_ …Just stay with me. Don’t you dare-”

A bag hits the ground solidly, Luisa suddenly crouching next to her. Silently she shifts Jane out of the way, removing their joined hands from Michael’s chest and replacing it with her own. Items are quickly pulled from out of her bag, Luisa ripping open Michael’s shirt to better access the wound. Jane watches, silently crying, Michael’s eyes growing fainter and fainter with every passing moment. Luisa retrieves a bullet from the wound, the object clinking as it hits the ground, and then starts to stitch Michael’s skin together, biting her lip in concentration.

At the sight of the needle slipping into her husband’s skin, Jane presses her lips firmly to Michael’s temple, unable to watch. Her fingertips on his neck tell her that he’s still alive, but only just. She takes what little comfort she can in the dull thump of his heart, praying that God would not be so cruel as to tear them apart when they are finally together, finally man and wife. Michael makes her happy in a way no one else can, and she doesn’t think she could bear to live without that happiness, not really.

Luisa sits back on her heels as she bandages the now-stitched wound, a needle injecting Michael with something. “A stimulant,” she explains. “To keep him awake until the ambulance arrives. Just in case.”

Jane nods, swallowing thickly. Michael’s hand curls tightly around hers, both of their palms stained with blood. His blood. “Thank you,” is all she can manage to say, her white dressing gown falling off of one shoulder. “Thank you.” She leans down to press a kiss against Michael’s lips, his skin salty from her tears, and when she dares to drag her eyes away from him, Luisa is gone.

But then the ambulance officers are there, lifting Michael onto a stretcher and Jane does not have time to worry about Luisa’s whereabouts, clinging tightly to Michael’s hand as they load him into the ambulance and speed off to the hospital. Just over a year ago, she was heading there whilst in labour with Mateo. Tonight, she is praying that the man she loves isn’t going to leave her. Her wedding makeup has well and truly disappeared from her face, the nightgown she and Lina giggled over buying a touch too indecent for anyone else but Michael to see, but Jane finds that in this moment, all that matters is her husband, and making sure that he’s okay.

He has to be okay.

Michael is her heart, her safe place, the man she loves more than anything else. And if he isn’t okay, Jane isn’t sure she will be either.

**Author's Note:**

> That s3 promo, man. I cried. I know that JTV isn't going to do me dirty like that, but still. Come October, Michael (aka Jane's true love aka the best stepdad ever) better be alive and well! 
> 
> Also - I'm not a doctor. I'm never going to be a doctor. And I'm far too lazy to research medical things, so let's just accept what I've written as plausible.


End file.
